


Memento Mori

by OverlyCheerfulRat



Category: Monster High
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Car Accidents, F/F, F/M, Immortality, Tragic Romance, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22958698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverlyCheerfulRat/pseuds/OverlyCheerfulRat
Summary: Frankie is young now, but she will live on into eternity.
Relationships: Draculaura/Frankie Stein, Holt Hyde/Frankie Stein, Jackson Jekyll/Frankie Stein
Comments: 1
Kudos: 54





	Memento Mori

**Author's Note:**

> just for the record i'm basing character designs off the original books (frankenstein and the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr, hyde) so frankie is 8'0 and absolutely fucking ripped, plus her whole body is way messed up, and holt is 4'8 and full of rage. the "stupid grandfather" holt references is mr, hyde, obviously

Draculaura was the first person Frankie slept with, a quick, confused one-night stand. She was on a break with Clawd, hot under the collar and all-around hot, and they got high afterwards, Draculaura getting quieter and quieter until she turned to Frankie and said, "He'll die." 

Frankie choked on nothing, and Draculaura quickly clarified, "Eventually, I mean. Do you know how many mortals I've loved?" She closed her eyes, relaxing against Frankie's muscular chest. "I'm so old, Frankie. Cleo's the only one older than me, and she spent millenia in a tomb. She didn't live." Draculaura brought Frankie's hand to her chest, pressed it to her still heart, then to her neck and her non-existent pulse. 

"I remember all their names," Draculaura murmured, drawing in breath only to speak. "I've fallen in love exactly two hundred and fourteen times, and I've seen two hundred thirteen mortals leave me. I've seen over half of them die. I have spent lifetimes with them, watched them grow old, adopted and raised children with them." Her eyes met Frankie's. "I've outlived all my children."

They never spoke of that night afterwards, but Frankie thought about her words every time she saw her dance with Clawd. Frankie knew she'd be there for her after he died, because she was as immortal as Draculaura, as unchanging as Cleo. 

After their conversation, she decided she could only fall in love with another immortal. She couldn't be like Draculaura, losing her heart to people doomed to die. But Frankie was young, and when she met Jackson and Holt, she forgot that vow. Jackson pushed her hair back, looked into her deformed face and mismatched eyes, ran his long fingers over uneven stitches, and called her a miracle. Holt stared up at her in wonder, sharp teeth exposed in a grin, laughed at how easily she could pick him up, wrote songs for her, fought anyone who called her a freak.

She only ever slept with Holt, because Jackson was disgusted by sex, wrinkled his nose adorably at the suggestion of it. Holt trusted her not to hurt him, even though her hands were bigger than his face, even though he was literally half her size. Afterwards, as they fell asleep, their thoughts couldn't have been more different. Holt marvelled at how sweet she was, and how gentle, and how she loved him even knowing what his stupid grandfather had done.

Frankie listened to his heartbeat, felt the heat of his skin contrasting sharply with her icy fingers, ran her hands over his tiny body and thought about how breakable he was. Holt was only a little smaller than Draculaura, but they felt so different. Draculaura was ancient, hard and cold as stone, unmoving and unmovable. Her chest was silent. Holt was young, warm and soft and supple, and his chest moved with breath in a way Draculaura's never would.

"I don't want you to leave me," she told Jackson one day, holding him on her lap as they watched a movie. He twisted to look at her, frowning in confusion. "Why would I? I love you," he said innocently, not realizing how short his life was when compared to hers, not realizing he'd die before she could truly love him back.

When Frankie held them, she was cautious. Even as Holt writhed and moaned beneath her, pulled her hair and bit her chest, gasped "I love you, I love you, I love you," she never squeezed him or touched him too roughly. 

Frankie wondered if they'd move in together after graduation, three people and two bodies in a cozy little apartment. Thanks to an icy road and sharp swerve late one December night, she never found out. When she lost control of the wheel, when the car rolled twice ad hit a tree, she was fine. She would always be fine.

In the passenger seat, Holt whispered her name, and she saw blood dripping from his lips. She saw, but didn't process, the horribly deep cut in his abdomen, the awful twisting of his legs. As she pulled him out of the wreckage, he struggled and failed to speak, gasping wetly as blood filled his lungs. "You'll be fine," Frankie told him, watching his crimson blood mingle with his flaming red hair. "It's just a scratch, baby, just a scratch." She held his hands as he twitched and gagged, fought the urge to look away from his intestines spilling out into the snow, murmured that an ambulance was coming and everything would be just fine.

Later, Draculaura would hold her. Later, their mother would scream that it was her fault. Later, she would leave flowers on a headstone engraved with two names. But in the moment, she just held him, listened to his mortal heart stop, watched his blood melt the snow she knelt in. She ended up slipping the ring off his thumb and taking it home, putting it on a chain around her neck. 

She would have other lovers, dozens and dozens until she lost count, but Frankie never took that necklace off.


End file.
